


The Once and Future Queen

by hesperia



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-03-13
Updated: 2012-03-12
Packaged: 2017-11-01 21:22:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/361388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hesperia/pseuds/hesperia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Sometimes I think he forgets that I am not the son who will one day inherit all that we are. Sometimes I forget as well. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Once and Future Queen

At fifteen, Cersei Lannister should have been married by now. She knew what people said behind her back, how Rhaegar had convinced his father to let him marry the pretty dark eyed Dornish girl, and how Aerys had been more than willing to publicly remind Tywin Lannister that the King ruled the Hand, and not the other way around. 

From where Cersei sat in the stands she could see Elia Martell with her ladies-in-waiting, she was smiling and laughing but Cersei could see the frailty of her, the thinness of her face, the tired eyes. All signs of her recent and taxing birth to her daughter. _I would have born him a son,_ Cersei thought, watching as Rhaegar readied his horse. _I would have born him a dozen sons._

On the opposite end, Brandon Stark prepared himself for the first round. The wild wolf was tall and handsome, and she knew of several young women who would have done all that they could for a chance to be promised to Brandon Stark. Or at least warm his bed. _I might have had him too,_ mused Cersei, _if not for the Tullys._ One of them held out a handkerchief, giggling with her sister as Brandon took it. 

Disgusted, Cersei sighed into her empty cup. For a family whose wealth was far above most of the Seven Kingdoms, Cersei found it increasingly frustrating that her father gave no thought at all when it came to securing Cersei a husband. _Sometimes I think he forgets that I am not the son who will one day inherit all that we are. Sometimes I forget as well._

The crowd cheered around her as Brandon was unhorsed by Rhaegar in the second round. Cersei stood, she had endured more than enough for one day, and she slipped out of the stands. On her way to the Lannister pavillion, she came across Brandon, and his brother, Eddard. 

"A valiant effort, Lord Stark," Cersei said, of his recent loss. "And such sportsmanship."

Brandon laughed, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Are you a fan, Lady Cersei?" 

Cersei wrinkled her nose. "Not at all, but I do enjoy a good fight every now and then. Should the opponents be worthy." 

As the words left her mouth she could see Brandon's eyes travelling over her, clearly enjoying what they found. Perhaps I could have him still, Cersei mused, but then she caught Eddard's gaze, watching her with cool apprehension. Cersei had often heard that he was not as handsome as his brother, but she found that to be quite untrue. He was as handsome as Brandon, yet his sullen and stoic nature seemed to subdue the features that most young ladies were rapt to express about his brother.

"Will you be participating in the tournament, Lord Eddard?" Cersei asked. It seemed to startle him that she spoke to him directly and he paused slightly before answering. 

"No, my lady...I mean.. Lady Cersei, I will not be competing this time." 

Before Cersei could respond there was a bout of giggles approaching and the two Tully girls, Catelyn and Lysa, came around the corner. They stopped when they saw her, and Cersei found herself staring into the bright blue eyes of Catelyn Tully. Cersei steeled herself and stared back. What passed between them was mere seconds, but the message was clear. 

"My sympathies, again, Lord Brandon," Cersei said, excusing herself, and she patted Brandon on the arm. Turning to his brother, "Lord Eddard." She dropped a small curtsey and swept passed the girls. She was not going to give them a second glance, but when she turned her head just slightly over her should she saw they were laughing with Brandon, but Eddard's eyes were there, grey and clear, and Cersei felt heat flush her cheeks. Embarrassed at her reaction, Cersei whipped her head back and continued on her path, but she couldn't ignore the thrill she'd felt to have his eyes on her, even if he was only a second son. 

~

At the feast that night, Cersei found herself entirely bored with the event, and had taken to drinking copious amounts of honeyed wine. She had danced with several men from various houses of Westeros, but most of whom were of no great importance. Save for Arthur Dayne, who despite his Dornish roots was quite handsome. He gripped her tightly in his hands as they moved around the room, and Cersei couldn't help wondering what it might be like to feels his hands on her in _other_ capacities. 

She also danced with Stannis Baratheon, who she found incredibly dull. The conversation, or lack thereof, made Cersei increasingly thirsty, and when she parted ways with Stannis she went in search of something stronger. 

She was halfway through a bottle of dark ale when Lord Eddard walked down hall, not noticing where Cersei sat hidden in an alcove until she called out to him. "Lord Eddard..."

She heard his footsteps pause, and retreat, until he was standing in the doorway of the alcove, his height towering above her. "Lady Cersei...are you unwell?" 

Cersei barked out a bitter laugh that would have startled anyone else, but Eddard Stark was unmoved by her outburst. "I am not unwell, I'm bored, Lord Eddard. Ned. May I call you Ned?" 

She expected a rebutt, a lecture in unseemly behaviour, of which she received none. "You can," he said, surprising her further by sitting down on the stone bench. "Does the feast not provide you any entertainment, Lady Cersei?"

"I find the amusements of other young women do not touch me quite so deeply." She said, thinking of Lyanna Stark's tears at Rhaegar's song. "Nor do I like the harp." She took another drink from the bottle of ale and held it out to Eddard. 

He looked at her for a moment, a pause she couldn't read, but then took the bottle from her. When he pulled the bottle away from his mouth, a few drops of ale ran down over his bottom lip.

Cersei reached up to brush them away as she had done to Jaime so many times. It was only on the contact of her fingers against his mouth did she realize her actions. She moved to pull her hand away but his fingers circled her wrist tightly, holding her fingers to his mouth. His mouth was soft, and wet from the ale, and warm, _so warm._ In contrast his grip on her arm was tight, yet intimate, and the hard pad of his thumb brushed hesitantly against the inside of her wrist. 

Daringly, Cersei pushed her fingers forward, the tips of them slipping past Ned's lips and into the warmth of his mouth. He sucked on them softly, his tongue sliding over and around them until he dropped his hand from her wrist, and she proceeded to trace one thin finger around his mouth. 

"Are you drunk, Ser?" she asked, putting the bottle to the other side of her as moved down the bench toward him, crawling over his lap, her thighs straddling his own. 

"On what I am not quite sure, my lady." Ned's hands her on her hips, sliding over the silk that covered her bottom to pull her hard against him, their faces entirely too close for anything but Cersei to lean forward and find his mouth with her own. He was still at first, letting her lips move against his own, and then he began to respond. His mouth nursed against hers, teeth grating over lips and tongues slick and slippery against one another. "I should take my leave of you." Ned said, as his mouth covered her neck with soft kisses, and he sucked gratuitously on the soft skin below her ear. 

"Then why don't you?" Cersei asked, and she moved her hips most wantonly down against him, a sharp gasp of delight as she felt him, thick and hard beneath his breeches.

Ned's fingers dug deep against her hips and she felt a thrill rush inside her at the thought of bruises on her skin, bruises that he had left there. "Gods," Ned swore as Cersei's mouth suckled at the base of his throat, her tongue laving over the day old beard beginning to grow in. "You're a she-devil." 

Cersei laughed, pulling away to look at him. "Did you forget, Ned Stark? I am a lionness." 

"With such a mane," Ned whispered roughly, his hand winding its way around her long blond hair, tugging her head back to expose her throat and breasts. Cersei's skin prickled with excitement as Ned's mouth seemed to cover over every inch of her exposed skin. 

It was only when Cersei's hand began to snake down between them, her fingers wrapping around his c, that Ned stilled against her, his hands on her shoulders, pushing her back. "This is madness," Ned said, and he lifted her off of his lap. "Forgive me actions, Lady Cersei, the wine has caused me to act rashly."

Where only moments earlier Cersei's chest had been filled with lust and passion, a new emotion was brewing, one much less kind. "I did not know Starks were such cravens," Cersei taunted cruelly, as she fixedthe neckline of her gown that Ned had mussed. 

"Cersei...I'll not dishonor you in a hallway with your father, brother and more than a dozen of his men not 100 yards from us." Ned said, and Cersei stood, she could barely stand to look at him. "No matter how much I want to."

She looked at him sharply then, her green eyes bright with fury. "And do you think that my father would ever give me to you? A second son who will inherit nothing but some barren piece of the North. I was supposed to be _Queen!_ " 

Ned stood, "Then I'll leave you, Your Grace." He bowed his head and brushed past her, heading down the hall towards his original destination. 

Cersei let out a growl of frustration and grabbed the bottle, stalking off in the opposite direction to find her brother.


End file.
